fuzzy (trapped between the two or?)

fuzzy (trapped between the two or?)

“fuzzy
is this a dream

or a memory
or the chi.ld.mera of the two?
tea for two, only with you, of course
a fuzzy room, white-light diffused blinds
forms form obtuse outlines
no sharp designations or edges, soften
red tinted-felt tucked in victorian furniture, plum scented
fancy attachments adorned to wanton crowns
perhaps I am phasing out-
I hear myself, having conversations
I hear answers, but in no language to my understanding
might I panic in this blurred reality?
somehow though calm has the best of me
is this how this ends?
is this the heaven of the self?
or paradise lost in paradox
set beyond all living clocks
built inside our inner blocks
limbo cycles lock to lock

notes… going a bit old school metal on you… this band became… nah, I won’t ruin it…

on passing an old cemetery…

on passing an old cemetery…

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there- ! storm clouds a’ gathering
o’er the grave- of my brave- dead king
pray-tell, what portents, will this bring
more dead wars-
more dead kings.

notes… sometimes I don’t know from where it comes (inspiration that is), I was passing a cemetery, not as old as the country, much older than years I can know by touch… and the words just popped into my head, the idea of a surviving warrior, longing for former glory but also realizing the horror…

the onus of shame

the onus of shame

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the trees, their looks bear down upon me
a whole row of judges bent the same forward
their stoic state confirms
they feast rightfully on my shame -;
peddlers of the rain-
the rumblings resonate in the scrum of my ancestors,
a small-broken bird lies, in a puddle, flat mirrored frame
surrounded by lily pads of cherry blossoms fallen
a bloodless crime-
not drowned but that of a twisted neck
captured now placed unto that final nest,
I contemplate the darkening-looming
and attempt to tabulate the celestial math
but I have no means to the master
for I am locked in the strands of man-
for- I am.

notes… this is one of those more cryptic ones that just came to me as is… so, this is how it is… the inspiration was a bunch of trees planted in a semi circle, they looked down at me, or so I felt/thought, and so it was….

the manor… [“_“]

the manor… [“_“]

Photo by Deeana Creates on Pexels.com

the manor

in the house of the dying sun,
a knock on the door
an uncle a cousin a brother
and I forgot to remember-
that he is gone
for father has traveled on
into the land beyond (our senses).
the wife, a sister, my mother
left with the charge
for every crack and nook
imbued with the marriage of years
strolling through photobooks
slow motion silent cinema tales
snapshots of a life no longer in motion
told and closed,
the deacon of my being struggles
struggles for reason
for faith to believe in our fates
for a reason, for a meaning,
I yearn for the voice of dominion
for guidance, for wisdom
for the power to accept
as we must, and accept
there is no choice
no choice in the matter
for soon enough I will join you father
and once more
be of your manor.

notes… been mired in the weather so not posting too much, I have been writing however, just not posting, sometimes life gets in the way, you know ? Thanks for all the looks and comments, I appreciate your time and stopping by.